An Angel in the Mail (13 page)

“Laundry?” Luke groaned, and fell to the ground, holding his head. “That’s what women do.”

“I’ll do the wash. I just want your help. My ribs still hurt, so I need two strong boys to collect all the dirty clothes, and bring them to the washroom.”

“Yes, ma’am! We can do that.” John puffed his chest out.

She fetched Julia-Rose from the kitchen and placed her on a blanket with her rag doll on the floor of the washroom. By then, the boys had dumped piles of dirty clothes on the floor. She had them watch the baby while she filled up buckets of water and heated them on the stove. Good thing her ribs were better, because she was back to lugging water again.

Eventually, they had water, soap, a scrub board, and dirty clothes, and Angel began her work.
Good heavens, this family goes through a lot of clothes!

Her back ached and her hands burned from the soap and hot water, and she still had a pile of clothes to go through.

She plopped down right there on the floor, deciding to have a break. She stretched her back muscles and rotated her neck.

If she wasn’t so weary, she would think up new names to call her stepmother. Easy for Sylvia to traipse off to Virginia—with only one maid, poor thing—and send her out here. Some of her enthusiasm from earlier evaporated. She crossed her legs in a very unladylike fashion and leaned her elbows on her knees, her face in her hands.

Julia-Rose picked that moment to hand her the much-loved rag doll. “Mama.”

“Thank you, little one. It’s a pretty dolly.” Her hands shook as she brushed the curls back from Julia-Rose’s forehead, and tears rushed to her eyes. This beautiful child deserved a mother. So did the two imps noisily chasing each other around the tree outside. And their brothers. Blowing out a breath, she got back up and continued the wash.

A few hours later, she stood in the yard and eyed the line of clean clothes that blew in the soft breeze behind the house. The tubs had been emptied, and Julia-Rose was down for a nap in the kitchen. The twins had curled up on a blanket under a tree, and fallen asleep, fingers intertwined.

Nate hadn’t come home for noon dinner, so she put the pot of ham hocks and beans that Mrs. Darby had set up for her yesterday on the back of the stove to stay warm. They would have that for supper with the leftover bread. Unused to all this hard work, and feeling sleepy herself, she lay down on the settee and was soon fast asleep.

Loud knocking on the front door woke her. A little disoriented at first, she rubbed her eyes and looked around. Julia-Rose stood on her cot, a sopping diaper hanging half off, dried milk caked around her lips. The twins sat on top of the kitchen table and smeared jam on bread, that—
heaven help us!
—they had cut with her large knife.

She rose from the settee, and tried to return her hair into a semblance of order. It was half up and half down, so she shrugged, and went to the baby. The soggy diaper flapped against her apron as she opened the door.

A well-dressed couple stood on the porch. The woman was middle-aged, thin, her lips pinched in disapproval. Adorned all in black, her scrawny, witch-like hands were folded at her waist, where she clutched a small reticule, also black. The man next to her was tall and skinny. Beneath his large nose, a full mustache turned up at the ends. He took off his hat as she opened the door. Neither one of them smiled.

“Can I help you?” Angel asked as she jiggled Julia-Rose who had begun to cry, probably wanting out of the wet diaper. Before they could speak, Luke and John came running from the kitchen, and stood on either side of her, jam covering their faces and clothes. They grabbed her skirt with sticky fingers.

“Who are
you
?” The woman said in a high-pitched voice.

“I beg your pardon.” Angel drew on her experience in New York society where she’d expected to be the lady of a well-staffed, upper crust home. “Who are you?”

“We, young lady,” the man said, stiffening, “are Mr. And Mrs. Louis Belford.”

When Angel did nothing but stare at them with disdain, the woman added, “We are Amy’s parents. We’ve come to visit our grandchildren.”

Angel’s stomach collided with her feet. The children and the house were a mess. Strange, the twins didn’t seem to recognize their grandparents. She stepped back, fussing with her hair. “I’m so sorry to keep you out on the porch. Please, come in.”

Mrs. Belford sniffed, and entered the house, holding her skirts close so as not to touch anything.

“Won’t you have a seat?” Angel pulled the blanket off the settee she had used for her nap.

“You didn’t answer our question, young lady.” Mr. Belford sat rigidly at the end of the settee. “Who are you?”

“She’s our new mama,” John said.

“Nathan has remarried!” Mrs. Belford gasped and grabbed her throat. She extended her hand toward her husband, who patted it.

Trading her anxiety for anger, Angel lifted her chin. “Yes, he did. If you’ll excuse me, I must take care of the baby. Please make yourselves comfortable, and I’ll be right back.” She turned and hurried from the room and up the stairs. John and Luke continued to stand at the entrance to the room and stare at the older couple.

I wonder if this day could get any worse.
She wiped Julia-Rose down and changed her diaper and dress. She couldn’t go back and face those people. They were so disapproving. She could certainly hold her own with them. Years of training would see to that.

However, as they were Nate’s in-laws, it might not be a good idea to squash them like a bug under her foot, right there in his parlor.

The back door slammed, followed by the clamor of Matt and Mark coming home from school. “Matt!” she called from upstairs. “Can you come up here a minute, please?”

Both boys raced up the stairs and into the bedroom. “Who’s that downstairs?” Mark said as they charged into the room.

She raised her eyebrows. “They’re your grandparents. Don’t you know them, either?”

“Nope. Never saw them.” Matt answered.

Best to leave that issue alone, and deal with the problem at hand.
Walking quickly to the small desk in the corner of the bedroom, she reached for a scrap of paper and plucked a pen from the inkwell. “Matt, I need you to bring a note to your papa’s shop. Right now.”

“Sure, I can do that.”

“Thanks.” She blew on the writing, folded the paper, and handed it to the little boy.

“Come on, Mark, go with me,” he said. They both turned and galloped down the stairs and out the back door.

She stepped over to the mirror and did her best to put her hair up again. She yanked off the dirty apron, threw it into a corner, and picking up Julia-Rose, returned to the parlor.

Mr. and Mrs. Belford had not moved an inch. Mr. Belford continued to pat Mrs. Belford’s hand.

“May I get you some tea?”

“No, thank you,” Mrs. Belford sniffed.

Mr. Belford cleared his throat. “Where is Nathan?”

Where do you think he would be in the middle of the day?
“He’s at work in his gun shop.” Angel fussed with the baby on her lap. “I just sent a note to him to let him know you’re here for a visit. I expect him soon.”

Julia-Rose wiggled and pushed against Angel’s chest. Her way of letting her know she wanted to get down. The baby slid to the floor and smiled up at her. “Mama.”

Mrs. Belford grasped her throat and made a squeaking noise. Mr. Belford turned beet red.

They all sat in stony silence until Nate came home about twenty minutes later. Angel was about to scream at the silent disapproval emanating from the settee. When the front door opened, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hello, Louis.” Nate shook the older man’s hand. He nodded at Mrs. Belford. “Emily.”

He slipped his jacket off and sat next to Angel on the settee, resting a booted foot on his bent knee. He scooped Julia-Rose up from the floor and placed her in his lap. “What brings you to Oregon City?”

“As we explained to this young woman, we came to see our grandchildren. I assume that is an acceptable reason?” Emily Belford shifted in her seat.

Nate put his arm around Angel. “This young woman is my wife. And seeing as how this is only the second time you’ve come to see your grandchildren, you can understand why I question your visit.”

“Young man,” Mr. Belford sat forward. “We are appalled at the condition in which we find this house and our grandchildren.”

“How’s that?” Nate said, his voice low, his eyes narrowed.

“This woman answered the door, looking a mess.” The older woman jumped in. “Her hair was falling down, her apron dirty, and the baby had a wet diaper hanging off. And the boys were covered with jam. They obviously had been fixing their own food!”

Nate pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your grandchildren are doing just fine. Everyone’s healthy and happy. Angel and I recently married, so we’re all making adjustments.”

“Angel!” Mrs. Belford said. “What kind of a name is that for a respectable woman?” She looked at her as if expecting her to remove her clothes and run naked around the neighborhood.

Angel lifted her chin, her eyes flashing. “My name is Angelina Constanza Hardwick Hale.”

Nate’s lips twitched at her comment. “Louis, Emily, why don’t you relax, and stay for supper. You can spend some time with the children.”

“We would find that acceptable.” Emily Belford spoke as a queen, granting an audience to commoners.

Nate rose from the settee and deposited Julia-Rose in Emily’s lap. The older woman stiffened, and Julia-Rose, sensing the tension, let out with a wail. She twisted in Emily’s lap, and put her arms out. “Mama!”

Mrs. Belford began jiggling the baby, which only made her throw her little body back and cry harder.

“Here, I’ll take her,” Angel said. “She’s sometimes fussy when she wakes up from her nap.”

Mrs. Belford smoothed out her skirts. “Where are the boys?”

“I’ll go round them up.” Angel made her escape to the kitchen where Nate had gone. She found him staring out the window with his hands in his pockets.

She settled the now quiet Julia-Rose on her hip and pulled at Nate’s sleeve.

“What will I serve for supper?”

“What did you plan?” He continued to stare at the boys racing around the yard.

“I have a pot of beans and ham that Mrs. Darby set up yesterday before she left. But that isn’t appropriate for company.” She chewed her lip.

“It’s fine for company, honey. Don’t get all upset over this.”

She shifted the baby to her other hip and gave the beans a quick stir. “Your mother-in-law wants to see the boys.”

“She’s not my mother-in-law,” Nate snapped. “I’ll get the boys and send them in.” He stalked from the room.

Soon, four boys charged through the back door, but slowed down when they entered the parlor.

Nate took money from a cup over the sink. “I’ll go to the bakery and get a fresh loaf of bread, and see if Mrs. Fenwick has any pies left.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” Angel said, relieved. “I’ll set the table.” As he turned to go out, she grabbed his arm. “Do we have a tablecloth and napkins?”

“I think Amy kept that stuff in the bottom drawer in the hall cabinet.”

She put Julia-Rose in her chair, tied the strap and handed her a cookie. A search of the chest Nate had indicated revealed a lovely, pale blue linen tablecloth with ten matching napkins, all ironed and neatly folded.
Well, it appears things weren’t always in such a muddle here.

One more chair from the boys’ bedroom completed the nine places at the dining room table. Although a little crowded, the tablecloth and napkins gave it a more ‘special’ look.

As she sped by the parlor, she glimpsed the four boys standing at attention, being questioned by the Belfords. Mark stood with his head down, worrying the button on his shirt. The twins were practically glued to each other, holding hands. Nobody looked happy. It wasn’t her place to interfere, so she continued with supper preparations.

Nate entered through the back door, juggling packages.

“Mrs. Fenwick had a loaf of bread just coming out of the oven, so it’s nice and hot. She had only two pies left, sweet potato and dried apple, so I bought both.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. That will really help.” She rushed around the kitchen, heat rising to her face as her heart did a rat-a-tat-tat. A moan escaped as she glanced through the window. “Oh no. The wash is still hanging out.”

“Whoa, slow down.” Nate grabbed her flying apron strings. He pulled her into his arms and gave her a quick kiss. “Calm down, honey, it’s only supper.”

She licked her lips, nodded quickly, and wrenched away, continued to open and close cabinet doors, looking for serving dishes. In a few minutes, all was ready, and she sent Nate into the parlor to ask everyone to come to the table.

Mr. Belford looked at the table and pursed his lips. Mrs. Belford sniffed and took the seat Nate held out for her. Angel helped the boys into their seats, and then ran to the pantry for the butter. Nate squeezed her hand and led her to a seat. He then sat at the head of the table, and bowed his head.